More than Nothing

I could not believe that this was what existence was. Then again it was impossible to be alive or dead, you just could not tell. There was only nothingness yet I could think. There was no floor beneath my feet, a feeling of nothingness enveloped me; no hot, no cold, not even the air that surrounded me. A dark vastness, nothing to see, nothing to feel, not a single sound to be heard. Moving was an abstract thought; with nothing to feel whether I was moving or not was a mystery, with nothing to see whether I was forward backwards or upside down was irrelevant. Yet, before me, I knew it was there. A door, without a handle nor a light slipping from beneath. I could not quite be sure what it was never had I ever came across something other than nothing. But still being there with no light I could not see it. Even without sight at the depth of my soul I sensed it being there an actual something. Reaching out I touched it, a cool smooth texture stretching to infinity, but so unfamiliar was this sensation to me. I have never felt before. The cold pierced my skin like needles, shooting strait to the bone. Nothing was there for me. Nothing but nothingness, this door must be a way out, an end to this endless infinity of nothingness. But how do I open a door with no handle, not a window, crack or key hole through which to peer? Just extensions of the nothingness in which I reside; Still, this door is different it is a final barrier to the nothingness. It is there I can feel it with my hands; it is not made of nothingness, there is actually something there. As much as a sensation similar to an electric shock rattling my body I yearned to feel it again. I pressed my body to it, letting the sensation of its being fill the recesses of my mind, and longed for the other side. The longer I stayed there the more it stung, sending jolts through my body. But further past the pain there was an elation that made me feel alive. Like something extraordinary has just been discovered. When I was touching it the void around me felt distant, I felt like I could escape. What has trapped me my whole life does have an end. I know that now. I can feel it now. My escape, I can feel it pressed up against me. There must be a way by. I pushed against its hard surface but it would not budge. Still I pushed on it hoping for something to happen but slowly the feelings of my fingers changed from a twinge to a horrible pain and were gone. The fingers I have just begun to know, once again ceased to exist. It was as if they had disappeared or like they were torn away. When I first started pushing it felt cold but not terribly so. Then it changed and there was pain climbing from the tips, a nibbling crawling up through my fingers eating them away. Then they were gone. I reached to brush my finger tips along the face of the door but I felt nothing. Neither the injection of cold nor the twinge of a texture was meeting my finger tips. I tried to reach further past my finger tips but I could not. There was something in the way of my reaching out further. Was it possible that even though I could not feel it, that it was still there? I placed my palm to where I thought the door still hung, my fingers were oblivious but down my palm I could feel it still. That twinge of cold through my skin. My heart soared knowing that what must be my way out was still there. But I withdrew my hand. I did not want to lose this feeling, not any more than I already have. I tried to move my fingers but I could not tell if they were working or not. If they were there it was as if they were dead, limp and lifeless hanging from the top of my hand. Try and try again there was nothing, but then from the inside I could feel something it was faint but growing and it hurt, it hurt but it was something. A burning drifting down from my arm, lazily flowing to my dead finger tips. It was as if my blood was replaced with burning oil pumped through my body by my very own heart. I clenched my fist. They were moving I could feel that again but they were stiff and hard like the skin has been stuffed to full and stretched taught. This sensation did not cease before I was reaching out again. When my fingers reached the door pain again shot down my arm, it was not cold, no the cold burned. I reached out to it with my other hand but it was the same cold tinge as before. I leaned against the door gritting my teeth against the pain shooting through my hand. Waiting in the dark as it slowly faded away. There must be a way through. Every door can open even one without lock or key. The door seemed solid and there was not anything to grab to pull. There was no end to it in any direction I could not go over nor under or around. There was not ant weakness to the barrier no cracks or dents, holes nothing for me to use to my advantage. Maybe the door was a challenge but oh I wanted to make it through. I pushed against the door, ignoring my fingers. The surface was smooth, yet my hands did not slip. The longer I pushed the harder I shoved pressing myself to it; the door just never seemed to grow any warmer. The pain from before came back. Starting at my fingertips I was cold then the cold grew climbing up my arms. It want even to my elbow yet when a second wave of numbness began, again starting at my fingertips working its way up building on the cold. What I still do not understand is how so quickly a sense of nothing a complete lack of touch can swing back around more horrible than before into burning pain. The third wave shot up my arm but I was not about to give in. I let my elbow give in collapsing me into the door I pushed harder with my shoulder to it letting it go numb and burn just like the palms of my hands. The door as too strong and the surface held fast. The pain started climbing down my arm along my bones but there was no use in stopping. It could have been me being stubborn but the pain was better than nothingness. I would rather have spent the rest of my life in pain than be trapped in the eternal nothingness. I pushed harder letting my hand drift along the surface searching for any change at all. It was my only hope to make it through the door even if I never made it through I still had proof if even only to myself that the nothingness is not even boundless it does come to an end. There is something out there that is more than nothing. I had no choice I kept pushing, every dimension of my mind was waiting in hopes for something to happen when I fell smacking my head into the door. I reached up sliding my hand down its face the hard surface had an indentation, a smooth curve where I had been pushing. It could be done it was bent it gave in when I decided would not. I stood up continuing running my burning hand over the surface only to feel it pull itself back into shape, flat, infinite, unyielding. As I felt the door reform my heart sank, taking my breath with it. Something that was already hard was going to be near impossible now. My whole body writhed in pain; trying to healing itself from the trauma I brought to it. I could not move either arm. The numbness penetrated down past my bones, freezing my muscles so that the most they could do was let my arms hang lifelessly to my sides. I rammed the door with my head bashing it over and over in my hysteria. I could do nothing as my heart went into over drive beating its self to pump harder faster it began to burn like the rest of my body setting my chest alight pumping the burning oil through my veins; force feeding life back into my limbs. Even at my maximum at my greatest effort it was not enough the pain grew resisting my blood. Little by little it pulsed further with each pump making my arms throb under the internal pressure; the pain engulfed me too slowly to not be torture. The torture I have brought upon myself. The pain I felt was equal to my despair inside. Every bit of me knew I just could not give up, not when I was this close. My escape was on the other side of that door! That big, cold... unforgiving... not nothing DOOR! The pain was cornering my finger tips and the upper parts of my arms were throbbing. I closed my eyes; I could feel my body shaking trying to hold itself together but there was also something else. I thought I felt something slipping down my cheek. A stream down my face burned on my cheek but it was from the outside, I was not touch the door something else was there: something else that too was more than nothing. It took what little strength I had left but I was able to move. My muscles tightened to a cramp as I lifted my hand to my face. It felt slick to the touch, wet. Another droplet soon followed down the previous ones trail sliding down over my cheek and settling in the corner of my lips. When I opened my mouth a jagged breath escaped out and the small little drop fell in. I could feel it dissolve and spread over my dry tongue. It outraged the taste buds conveying a sharp tart taste that made my throat feel sticky and small. Trying to swallow was useless and it felt like my throat was going to get stuck shut. And with each swallow a horrible slime rose up into my mouth of an awful taste. Breathing was difficult. I had never been in such pain before. It was impossible to feel pain before. There was no cause to feel pain in nothingness. Nothing to hurt you. But just the door, it is not nothing, how could a single thing, a single feeling bring such pain. Finally I found the strength to open my eyes as the burning settled to that of red coals. I sat up and swallowed hard just managing to break up the salty rock at the back of my throat. All I could do was lay there next to the door. I just was not strong enough to do anything more against such an impenetrable work. Without a ground it had no bottom, and no sky to make the top, side to side it just extended on and on. There was nothing for me to do I was just stuck. Though the burning pain had ceased the watery droplets continued to stream from my eyes leaving a sticky scalding trail down my face before letting go and falling into the forever nothingness below. The door was too strong for my body; a something was too strong for a nothing. That is all that I was: nothing. I was useless just like my numb lifeless limbs that face the door. It was impossible to be anything more than nothing or anything more than useless when there was nothing to be done. I could not even beat a door. Whether it was more than nothing or not a person should be able to beat a door. This door does not budge or break or give me any chance. It causes pain and liquid cried from my eyes in such a way I could never forget. Nothing will always be nothing. And something will never be less than that. Something cannot be made into nothing. Nothing was all I ever knew and all I was. Thinking feeling sack of nothing a clump of nothing melted into nothing that is all I will ever be. I pulled my bottom half up to my face in a ball. I used my hands each one wrapped around each others wrist to hold me there. I rest my head there; the warm pressure was welcome after what had happened. The tears stopped falling and my heart went back to normal silently untouchingly pumping in my chest. Things seemed back to normal at that moment I could have moved away from that door and went back to nothingness. Things could never be the same though. I was given a challenge and I would not have ever been able to forgive myself if I left it behind. Not after being through so much. The liquid had dried, the pain was gone all that was left was me and the door. There had to be a way through. There had to. I clenched my eyes shut all I could think was there has to be a way, there has to be a way. No other thought could make it through my mind. How does a door open when there is nothing about the door to make it capable to do so. Maybe it was impossible. I shook my head still cradled by my own body. The warmth was not making it any easier to think of a solution. My body was tired my mind was lost I wanted to let go and let myself fall forever into the nothing. I could not risk losing the door though. It was my while lifetime before I found it the first time if I drifted away and lost it I could not bear such a thought. If I drifted away from it I could never find it again. There was no such thing as direction and no way to navigate or have any sort of location at all in nothingness. Both of my hands gripped the others wrist tight so I would not fall. My mouth gaped slightly and a weight pulled my face away from the top of my head opening my eyes large and round. I lifted my head brought my hand to my face. There was defiantly a warmth. I could feel myself. I took my hands curled into that ball again gripped my wrists. I could feel that too. A pressure wrapped around each wrist and a pressure pushing on each hand. This was never there before. It could not have been I would have noticed before. I touched my cheek where the liquid left its make it was still sticky. When I touched it before it felt slippery and wet. I could not help thinking how something like that could come from me. There are now tiny drops of something falling through the nothing. How though could I produce that and now I can feel myself? How could nothing produce something? It was illogical. Impossible. There was something else there other than the wet now there was something beneath it. It was soft and smooth. The soft and smooth part could feel too it felt like nothing I have felt before. It was not a pain though it was gentle as I moves wiping the wet off of my face before fully realizing what was just there. I pressed my hands together they were not smooth like they seemed before, yet they were not rough either. It was like a complex tangle of hills and valleys spiraling across the surface. Some were round and concentric and others were way and parallel they were very thin and hard to make out. There was also a few much thicker crease running through my hands. I moved away from the palm and up my fingers. I knew I had fingers but never thought they were so long. Five of them I counted. Five on each hand, four of them were long on the end and one was further down and stubby. All of my fingers however, had the same set of creases. The tangle of lines unraveled up each finger and ended in an intricate whorl. I could feel each hand move as I wanted it to, my fingers bend or flip my wrist over. My fingers were long and slender until halfway up there was a hard knobby section. On the topside of my hand it was hard and round and on the inside there was a neat crease folded into my hand. Curling my fingers around one another I could tell that that is where my fingers bend. Three places were these knobs I counted on the way up my finger. My hands were warm and defined. They felt as real as the door did. Or would that be surreal. When I pressed on my surface it squished inward and was soft. All that I felt was a pressure, no pain despite the apparent deformity. It was as if the surface was loose and not very well attached. I moved my hand back and forth being the layers with it. Wiggling it back and forth, it did not seem to get any looser. Perhaps it could come off. I tried first using the second, not the longest, finger along with the smallest thinnest finger on the opposite side of my hand. If I could pick at the surface layer maybe I could peel it right off. At least it was something to get my mind off of that door. Something. I was able to grip a minute segment of the materials between the two fingers, though the position was rather uncomfortable. I could feel that I caught myself by the tension pulling across the outer layer. I tried to remove the layer by pulling it away from the back of my hand, but before much pressure could be applied the bit of matter weaseled its way out. The short scrawny finger was too weak and frail to hang on. It was obvious that there has been a change and that something was wrapped around me. It was strong and secure but it made me feel caged inside something. My mind did not want to roam away. It felt as if a messy layer of flesh was sloughed on around my body. The small finger was not strong enough to pull the restrictive layer off of me; the short stubby finger located just below the second finger seemed to be in a better position to grasp it. I used that pair of fingers to try again. When I lifted it from the surface I could feel I had a better grip. I pulled it away but it would not separate so I squeezed it harder between my fingers. As I pulled more there was a sharp pain that forced me to let go. It felt like a quick pinch by something thin and sharp. I slid my hands up my fingers feeling the ridges and whorls again up to the top. Around the tip to the other side the softness was gone and the waves were gone. There was a sharp edge protruding from my finger. The edge was very thin like a flat slate running down the tip of the top of my finger. The sense of touch there was not the same as elsewhere else. It was muted and muffled because it would not give in to the pressures put on it. Only the pressure was felt, nothing more than that. But these hard things were useful they could grip and pinch small amounts and they were sharp. The layer could not be pulled away it hurt to try too. But perhaps with the help of the flat slates it could be removed some other way. Cut and scratched away from the rest of me piece by piece. I bent my fingers at each of the three nodules tensed them up the best I could and yet to it. Just before my wrists a thick strong section of flesh I scraped at the layer. I could feel a slight residue collect under the protrusions at my fingertips. It was coming off not much just a little. Even if just a little it was still working. I pushed harder and scratched faster digging the shards down deeper into the surface peeling it away. The flesh around there as I scratched began to heat up though and the more I clawed at the surface hotter it felt the faster I went the more it burned. But I was making it somewhere. Unknowingly my hand that was not busy destroying my body worked itself into a fist its own sharp endings digging into the palm. I was absolutely blind to the damage I was causing, for I kept going, pressing harder and faster my heart rate began to soar and it was no longer only my arm that burned. I was too excited to feel the actual pain and my whole body was pulsing as I continued the self mutilation. The heat there changed to pain and the rest of my cool body began to burn. There was an indentation in my arm and getting deeper with every stroke. I kept going taken up in the moment trying to get it off of me that the area was becoming sticky and wet. Some thick liquid was leaking out. It was pooling in bubbles and it rose up through to the surface and with the next stroke each bubble was smeared down my arms and coated each finger tip. I tried to take deep breaths I had to calm down. Each stroke my hand made became weaker and slower until I stopped completely. There was not much pain than a dull burning at first but as the elation and determination ebbed away a rush of agony took over. My hands were all sticky and the mess continued to ooze from my arm. The burning pain continued to smolder and grow stronger, the fluids dripped down and around the side of my arm. Excitement was changing to panic I did not know how to make it stop. I covered it with my hand to pull it shut by curling each finger over and squeezing it tight. The pressure I exerted did slow the rapid flow but it put a deep pressure on every bit below that point. The base of my hand throbbed from the inside out. The strain from the pressure made my hand feel to grow and expand. The pressure continued to build forcing more and more into each finger, unraveling each one to curl out of the fist. However, when I released my grip the throbbing did not cease and go away but rather grew stronger. Every bit of me was tense with panic. The affliction had to end, so I grabbed my arm and slammed it into the door. I would have rather dealt with that pain, any pain other than the tearing agony at the moment. The droplets of water again gathered in my face at the presence of such pain. Both types of burning met at that spot where I pressed it to the door. The cold itself was not enough to relieve me from the torment. The thick burn changed to a series of scalding stabs that penetrated deeper than the laceration itself. I pressed harder with my good hand to force it harder into the door. Slowly the pains explosion was again replaced with the sense of nothing. As I relaxed, relieved to be free from the torturous pain my arm dropped flopping uselessly to my side. My other hand leaned against the door which no longer seemed so cold due to a coating of the thick fluid dripping in little streams down the doors surface. The door was sticky when I tried to pull my hand away it pulled at my outer layers. My face felt stiff from the liquid expelled from my face and the tips of my fingers began to feel again. It was already starting with the prickling sensation. I tilted my head down to let my tears fall my hand that was still working I brought to my face hoping to wipe it away. But I noticed something that made me stop in mid motion. There was something there I knew my hand was there of course, I knew where I arm was it was lifted right below my downward cast eyes. There was, it was not as empty as nothing. It was not emptiness. It was brighter than that but still dark. On my hand it was in streaks, streaks and blotches settled into what must have been the creases I felt on my hand before. I looked over at my other arm the same strange shades left streaks down my arms and left little round orbules hanging off each finger tip. Each streak crossed the others weaving an intricate web of fluids down my arm still dripping away. More and more liquid leaving my body falling into the nothing, on the door the same tone smeared across the face dried out crisp and sticky. The shades began to blur and I could feel nothingness was starting to take over. My body began to feel cold starting from the bottom of my body, my feet and working its way up. I felt myself falling away. The throbbing grew but was blurred and faint. I knew the pain was there but it was distant and far away. My legs felt wobbly as I stumbled into the wall the sting very faint on my cheek. The shades of color blurred and faded approached by the increasing darkness form the nothing. The anything there grew further and smaller as I fell away from the door, away from hope away from pain. My eyes closed still sticky with the bitter tangy fluids that seeped before one last thing I could feel a dull pulse through my whole body starting where I brutally destroyed my existence. Time did not feel to pass in such a state; falling away not even my own thoughts could pierce the nothingness. Inside and out I guess I would never be more than nothing. Nothingness was my very being and that was all I would ever be. Back in the nothing movement no longer existed, there were no thoughts to make it happen. When I finally reawaked there again was only nothingness the same nothingness there always was. But not everything was the same: I was not the same. I had been through pain and sensations that nothingness could never bring. I went to bring my hand to my head in a way expecting the pain to continue. I felt my hand stop but I did not feel its touch. No heat could be felt and to any pressure I was numb. I grabbed where I thought my hand was trying to grab at the loose layer that covered me before. My fingers snapped together but there was nothing there. I reached further and further down trying to grasp anything that was not nothing but nothing could be found. I reached for my arm that was before open and torn nothing. I reached to my eyes looking for anything. No shades no sense of an image even with it right in front of my face. Could everything I been through been for nothing? Was all that could ever be, be nothing? But if that was true how could the door exist. The door was real it was definitely more than nothing. There was no way around it that THAT door was something; nothing could have held me back or been so cold. It was then when a horrible thought occurred to me: where was the door? Who knows where I could have gone, while I was gone I could remember it prickling on my cheek just very slight then nothingness took over. I fell backwards away from it and kept going since there was not anything to stop me. I reached as far as I could, sweeping my arm around my perimeter though I was too far gone to be able to reach it. I tried to make some form of movement. There was no way to tell if I was ever successful; without the door there distance again was a vague ideal. I kept going but the door was nowhere to be found. Who knew how far I drifted or even how long I was out. Without pain and the door and all the strange new sensations distracting me I finally had a chance to only think. That was the only upside to losing my way. There were no distractions in nothing. Whether my eyes were opened or closed did not matter but I closed them anyways. Unlike before I did not want my mind to be wandering away. Eyes were always windows to the soul to close them was like closing the blinds keeping you safe holding you being together and containing your thoughts. I already knew the door was more than nothing but what did that make me. At the beginning I was certain nothing was all I was but now I was confused. Could nothing be able to feel? That pain back there was not my imagination I was certain of that. At the end too right on me it was all over me and would not come off. In a way it grew on me or grew too me, grew around me I do not know. And also what kind of nothing would have its own heat, unless it was not me creating the heat but rather my surroundings making it. I could have been only feeling it. A bystander in the way of something grand. Even if I was not a part of the heat my hand were too well defined each crease was crisp and fit perfectly into the rest. The shards on each finger must have been real too in order to do so much damage, cutting so deep. Both liquids I found in the midst of the pain were real too the sticky mess from my arm I could still feel on the door and when just a droplet from my eyes reached my mouth if that was not real there was no way I could have imagined such a breathtaking sensation. The pricking and stinging it kept coming back in so many senses all of the different pain and chances cam along with some form of sting. The bitter taste in my mouth even prickled. I do not think a nothing could have experienced any of that. It could, maybe, be possible that even though I was made of nothing covered in nothing gave off nothing that I was not just that. I felt everything and I was thinking even with every bit of sensation torn away. In the world I knew, the nothingness was permanent and it seemed that everything that was not nothing was not permanent at all. It all could be stripped away in one moment, my hope to escape; my hope for freedom all relied on it. With nothing less to lose and no more pain to feel there was no gain in giving up. And no more loss in trying still. I could remember nothingness and thought too at one point was beyond reach. I still had one thing left and that was myself. Something I truly could not bear to lose. For all I knew that moment could have been right soon. Before I fell everything truly completely was nothingness even me. No knowledge of where I was headed or what was going on, everything faded away. It would have been easy to stay that way and never come back. Not only was I falling but it felt as if my being itself was being pulled away back deeper into nothing. I could not imagine being lost forever in the nothingness. My only chance to be certain that my fate was more than being simply nothing was to escape. Escape once and for all. Time it felt like was passing slowly or not at all. Away from everything there was nothing to do I was downright bored. Instead I spent the time trying to contemplate how I would find the door again. Maybe I would do what I did last time let myself drift and hope to run into it again. The door was so infinite if I headed any general direction towards it I would reach it eventually. Patience, patience was at play here. Really it was my only choice I could not do anything anyways, so I took the following time to sleep. My mind was worn and if I ever found the door again I would need my strength. I opened my eyes to the feeling that the door was right there in front of me. I reached out my hand to touch it; I had to make sure it was there. My hand was not stopped at the surface but rather sunk in instead. Fell right inside the door itself. I moved forward soon my whole arm was inside the door. It felt supported and caressed inside there cushioned from all sides. As if all of the nothing had been replaced with the warmth of something. It was a welcome feeling it gave me hope and I shook with excitement that I was finally making my escape. I rushed the rest of me inside and felt my whole body become suspended. I took a deep breath in and felt my surroundings fill my insides. I tried to get it out but it felt that my air had collapsed and I could not exhale to breath. I twisted and convulsed trying to get another breath. Everything was too thick to breath. I rushed back to the door I just entered through to find it had closed up back to the cold wall it was before. I pushed against it trying to make my way back through but it would not give in. The pressure from the outside was crushing me. I balled up each hand and smashed them to the door over and over again. Each time I tried harder and harder but each thrust grew weaker and weaker as my body ran out of energy drowning on the other side. I opened my eyes waking up and breathing heavy I tried to reach out but the door was nowhere to be found only nothingness again. None of that really happened. It all felt so real though how could that have not happened? I was breathing so hard I felt as if I was going to fall away again my head felt as it were itself floating away. None of it happened none of it happened; it could not have happened I was still there, still in nothingness the door nowhere within reach. I already had doubts about trying to so to make it through the door. But I always tried to ignore them. Whatever was behind the door was a mystery it could be something amazing and great but it could also be horrible and deadly too. Everything the door had brought me had been painful. Though I must admit the damage to my arm I suppose was my own fault now that I was thinking back on it. Perhaps it was not worth it to try so hard for something I could not know to outcome of. If I ever meet that door again I will have to be more careful no jumping in head first. I went through too much to not find out if there was a reason for all of it. Was there a point to the pain, a point to the droplet streaming down my face that came with it or a point to the fluids escaped my arm when I brutally destroyed myself, or just a point to anything that was not nothing. I was settled then. I had no choice but to wait so I was at fates hands again. The nothing was there as it always had. Something being there was like a gap with in its endless reach. The door could have been the barrier between this and something more. I felt something brush the top of my head. I noticed that my hand without any known thought of my own went to brush it away. Usually any notion of movement at all in nothingness took a great deal of thought, determination even. But for a brief moment it was automatic and easy to do. My hand on the way to my head or back did not feel anything unusual. There was nothing around my head to cause it. I was getting ready to brush the though away as a coincidence or a random happening. Perhaps it did not happen at all. After all my hand did not feel anything. Maybe I did not even move it could have been my imagination completely. In nothingness you ca not really tell if you move that was something I knew for sure. One of the few things left that I was still certain of. While I was still pondering whether the movement was real or not I hardly noticed that my hand again was drifting up towards my head and that the feeling was back again. It was not a strong sensation but it was rather compulsive. It felt as if my hand had to reach for it and that if it did not want to that it would do so anyways. It felt that it was rising up from inside me. I felt there was a slight prickling similar to when I first brushed against the door without the cold. I my hand its round again but this time the sensation did not go away. Again my hand swept past the top of my head without feeling the slightest of anything. The tingle was still there. I could try to touch it maybe if whatever was causing this was on me and small enough my hand would not feel it at all. I was nervous to try to touch myself again but I was far enough away from the door that it could not possibly have been having any affect on me. Surely when I touched my head with my hand all I would know was that my hand could not go any further. My hand again was on its way to my head on its own but this time when it reached the top of my head I brought it strait down on top of the prickling. The prickling did not go away from that though it felt squashed into my head and heated up slightly which made it just feel worse. My fingers one by one then began to curl under the motion that was next performed felt familiar. It was near identical to how it felt when I scratched at the layer. But at the top of my head it actually felt good. It was a gentle scraping which seemed to soothe the compulsive gesture. What was I using to scratch though, and what was it I was scratching. My mind had to spiral back around to notice these things. I pulled my hand back down and let each hand slip through the other. I could feel the grooves again. The little ridges on top of the loose layer every one of them was there and every one of them as far as I could tell was exactly where they were before. I flipped my hand over the hard smooth slates protruding from each finger were there too. They were the same things that tore the layer open and drove me mad with the pain that made me loose the door. I could not believe that just moments ago the same movement was so gentle and pleasurable no pain or any harm done it actually drove away the minor irritation that was there and back again. It felt even more natural to do that time it took perhaps not even a second to complete. It did not take a thought at all for my hand to swing up lightly scratch the surface and come back down. On the way back down I felt something wrapped around my fingers and when I scratched I could feel them there too. There was more than one tangled around each finger. They were extremely thin and kind of long and there was too many to count sprouting from my head. All together they flopped over lying next to each other when my fingers ran through them they felt soft. I could feel them move with my hand as it manipulated them but the strands themselves could not feel it. I did not feel anything that was beyond the surface of my head. All I could feel was where they were connected and where they were lacing through between my fingers. My mind gave me an entirely different figure though. In a way I knew where every one of them were and how they were bent, whether it was being pulled downward for flopped over the side and if it were just one strand going the opposite way I could tell. The same sensation was around my finger tips. The slates themselves did not feel. But they were just as useful as they were painful. My hands grasped each other but only one of them felt a tangled mess of crust coating the other. It reminded me of the pain before. The crust must have been the remains of the fluid I lost so much of before. I chipped it away piece by piece working my way up my arm. It did not particularly hurt but there sometimes was a brief sting as the pieces broke away. I got closer and closer to where it all came from. The wound itself now was nothing more than a tender raised section of the layer it did not hurt so long as it was not touched. Everything was back, though I did not know why. I checked my surroundings feeling around for the door. If the door was not near how could there be any of this happening. I spoke too soon though all of a sudden I felt that whatever movement I had had sped up and was still increasing. My body and I were accelerating toward something and I could not think of any of that way to put it than falling downward specifically. The falling increased faster still, pulling the flesh along my face backwards and forces each of my limb to trail behind me. The falling lasted an eternity and at some point of it I stopped speeding up. Whatever part of me that was facing to where I was falling always over time felt cold. I pulled one of my arms around me hoping that that warmth from that out layer could help but instead I found me flipping around in the midst of the. I could not really be sure if it was nothing. It felt as if there was something very very light and near impossible to feel rushing over me the entire time falling. I could feel it most where I was facing the down the same places that grew cold. That how I could tell what was happening. Now my backside was facing that direction and it really felt as if I was being pulled toward something. It felt that no matter which side my front of my back was facing down I guess the whole area that my arms and leg were connected to fell first ahead of the rest. My arms and legs trailed behind the rest of me unless I moved them otherwise. Like when I pulled my arm in. What was strange was how much force the very thin mobile surroundings had. When I pulled my arm in it felt like the pressure on my other side doubled and that is what pushed me to flip around. The falling has lasted a while by that point and I could not think of any way to stop it and it really felt fun. I pulled my opposite arm in as before and again my whole body was forced around. My mouth as open wide at the presence of just joy and I could feel that it was pushing some of my face flesh in front of my eyes forcing me to squint but I could not stop it I was having too good of a time. Again I pulled one of my arms in but this time I did not let it back out right away. I tumbled over and over and over again as I fell. My head was rattling between my shoulders but I did not care. Next I pulled in both arms crossing them across my front. I found myself falling forward flipping over to face strait down and I could feel myself to be once again speeding up. My whole head was cold and it felt like the fluid that was escaping from my arm before was all rushing to my feet. My feet felt pulsing and expanded like my hand did when I squeezed it too hard trying to make the leaking stop. Slowly I brought both hands together and raised them above my head toward where I was falling, again I felt my whole body accelerate faster downward. My body soon also began to slowly spin as I fell it did not take long however before the spinning began speeding up so fast that my arms were pulled out from the center. The moment I gave in I snapped completely open and instantly my decent slowed. My face felt stiff and numb from face whatever was surrounding me for so long so carefully I brought in my hands to cover my face. They were not very warm but it still felt good. I pulled my knees up to my front center for both legs. Since pulling in my arms together made me fall forward maybe pulling in my leg could make me fall back. I was very wrong but I loved the true out come even more. When both legs made it fully in a crossed my arms around in front of them to hold them close. I could feel my body flip over my head was facing the ground but unlike before with my arms it did not stop and stay there I kept going. My feet were down, my head was down my feet were down my head was down tumbling in an everlasting freefall. I let my arms and legs out to take a break from the excitement and breathe. As I expected once my arms and legs were released I slowed down instantaneously. I would not have minded staying there for forever though it would have gotten boring after a while of course but it was better than nothingness. And there was not anything that was hurting me there either unlike nearer the door. It was the first time since I first found the door when I was relaxed. All the confusion that was happening I pushed to the side. And I let myself fall. I could not stop myself from falling but I had no desire to stop either. I did not know how long it would last until I sense there was something getting closer very fast. Two words hardly had time to pass my mind before it was upon me. I came crashing down flat on my back to the hard cold surface. As soon as they very edge of the lay touched it it was a sudden stop. The whatever it was, probably the door, did not give an inch despite the great impact. As I hit it felt as if my body as being flattened inside and out. There was not a gasp of breath left in me. I opened and closed my mouth over and over trying to take a breath but it felt like not matter how much I took in it could not refill. My entire body felt crushed under the weight suspended around me. It was just like what seemed to have happened but really did not happen whilst I was sleeping. I stayed laying flat on my back arms on my side and legs strait out not daring to move a muscle. I continued trying take in a breath before I was lost once again. I could already feel the nothingness trying to reclaim my thoughts slowly pushing in from the outside. I waited laying on top of the hard expansive surface pulled down against it. Waiting for either death or revival. For once fate was on my side and though it was painful I could feel myself breathing again. The pain from my chest was in my head too being forced inward from the outside but being forced out ward from the inside. Neither side was winning nor was either side losing. It felt like it was waving back and forth in a dull slow pulse. I lifted my hand from off the flat surface but not very far. Moving here was not like in nothingness. My arm was hardly off of it when the entire arm tensed up and parts of my chest and shoulder took on the work as well. My arm flopped back down onto the surface. Back in nothingness once I had the notion that some movement was achieved I could let my body relax and whatever body part would stay there. Back in nothingness there was no other force to make you move. I tried to lift my arm up higher than before. Again my body gave out before reach overtop of my body but I thought I succeeded I am making it just a little further. I slid my arm along the surface up above my head the surface there felt different than the surface by my side. Everywhere else that I could feel was flat and smooth. Around past my head there were small raised patches that I could feel as my hand passed over them. I noticed that not all the patches stayed in one spot but got pushed by my hand back and forth. As more of them got pushed together they began to pile up on top of each other. Each thin layer I could feel leaning against the side of my hand. I pulled my hand back away from the small stack of flat chips. The entire stack fell over across my palm as if they also were pulled towards the surface I was on. It was not too difficult to move my fingers despite the strange downward pull. I was curious about what the small stack was made of. I curled them over and trapped a few particles between the two surfaces. They were very thin and not very solid. When I used my finger slate to crease the middle of it; it broke in to two pieces. The pieces felt very similar to what I was chipping off of my arms surface. The remains of the fluid that escaped my body that I peeled off when I noticed everything had returned. I did not feel to be falling when I did that though... how did all of the little pieces end up on this surface as well. It was as if they too were under the influence of the massive somethings pull. It was not until just after everything that had developed around me once again came to be that I felt this objects pull. I could feel the small chips on my hand being pulled down ward onto my hand by the object. If I could feel the chips they must have been a something not a nothing. The force the surface beneath me created could probably only affect actual things. I was attracted to it too though, I was certain I was just nothing. Yet the small chips formed by the fluid extruded from the hole I clawed in my arm were something and the surface coating me was also something maybe it was the force acting on everything that was surrounding me that pulled me down. I brought my hand back next to my side still being restrained to the strange surface beneath me. I wanted to be able to move and perhaps figure out what this thing was. On the count of three I was going to in one thrust swing my arm over on top of me. I was not going to bother trying to hold my arm up it took to much energy to hold it there. Not only did I have to move my being but the floppy coating around it and on top of that I had to counteract the downward pull. I breathed in and out hard and heavy. One I thought to myself Two I though as I exhaled On three every muscle with even the smallest relation to my arm tensed straining to throw my arm over my body. My arm did make it up and past the height of my front in comparison to what I was laying on. My arm came flopping down on to the lower part of my front and forced the remaining bit of that single breath out. That entire section of me was soft and squishy. It felt like it contained more than just my being and a messy layer of flesh draped over it. My arm on top of it rode it sliding down the side flopping back down next to me. Moving and turning here on solid maximum downess lack of a better term was not the same as turning while I was falling. I had to do more than just pull my arm close. On three I was going to try again. This time however I was not going to let my arm fall back down. I could set it sit on the squishy spot my own body could support it. It would not take too much effort to hold it there that way. After getting it there I could use where my arm attached to the rest of me to thrust the rest of me over. That way I would be front down and have more play with each of my limbs. When I was ready I thought out the plan again as I counted to three. I threw my arm up and over and again it came down on top of me. I could feel it trying to slip of and fall again but I stiffened my shoulder just enough to hold it in place. I was breathing heavy still but it was time for phase two before my shoulder gave out. My back twisted hard the direction I wanted to go then my arm reached out further to the side as if it alone was trying to pull the rest of me over. My entire upper half was turned as far as it could go. The side of my body was felt stretched and burned as it was the soul bearer of the strain. I had not expected that my lower half would refuse to follow suit with the rest of my body. In order to flip the rest of me over I was going to have to coordinate my entire core of systems. One side would push while the other one would have to pull in order to make the motion strong enough to generate the force I needed to force myself the rest of the way. That must have been the first time my thoughts were actually correct. I came to find that laying on my front as opposed to my back was much more comfortable if not for the fact that my arm that was not used in the transition was now pinned beneath me. I also had to cock my head one direction or the other or else the hard point bottom of my head grated on the surface. The movement took so much strength that even after it was complete all of the body parts involved stayed tense. They stayed that way for a long time before letting up. I had enough strength however to pry the layers the layers dead weight off the surface just enough to allow my trapped arm to escape. It was just in time. That arm was beginning to feel cold and it was tingling slightly. When it first got stuck there I could feel that it was imprinted into the squish but the tingles set in as millions of tiny sharp objects poking and prodding at me the feeling felt muted. It felt as if I was feeling it through an extra layer of flesh outside my own. If there was anything at all that I learned from everything that has happened it was that tingling is never a good thing. With both hands free I was able to begin my exploration. With the fronts of my hands lat on the surface I could feel in greater detail what I was literally up against. Just like the door it felt expansive in all directions. It also like the doo felt smooth on my hands yet they did not slip. At first I thought it actually was the door. But there were some subtle differences that suggested otherwise. The door I came upon by chance and this other door type thing pulled me strait to it. The real door was cold in a pain full way: I was laying on this thing for a while now and it was only slightly chilled. All of the times I had smashed into that door as soon as I made contact it stopped. The door did not respond to head repeatedly being slammed against it, antagonizing me in all my agony. It was as if every ounce of energy I used to fuel each strike was rejected and bounced back to me. If back then I was able to better feel I can only imagine the pain from it. The door rejected me. I never thought of it that way before. Everything that the door had done was perfectly designed to push me away. A pain to make me hesitant to do anything at all against it and fear to try to do anything to make my way through. A new sense from it trying to soothe my desires. Trapping me and stripping me of everything thing it gave haunting my every moment in its presence driving my mind to madness destroying the one thing solidifying my existence of being alive. It succeeded in throwing me away. But what of this. I lifted my hand and let it rap on the surface. It was accepting yet I still could not pass through. The bent angles across my hand did not string from the impact. What I felt come back at me was only part of what had struck it, it was as if the force was dissipated through the entire surface out and away from my hand never to be nothingness. Still, once again I found myself at the aim of change. A purposeless nothing left lying face down against a forever floor. Apart from the cool pressure holding me up from falling through without movement it was the same life as before. Nothing would happen if I stayed lying there. I could better explore if I could move. Staying low to the surface would be my best bet. With both hands and both legs on it I would not so easily fall. The first thing I needed to do was life my head. It was my only part without arm or leg to support it. It had to carry itself by a single thin neck. And that was the only was to lift it was by that neck. Many little bones one atop the other. Working together to bend and working with my flesh to lift the heavy weight up and away. My chest stayed on the surface but my neck could bend just enough to lift my head completely. It was not too hard. Next I had to lift my upper body. It was a lot of weight to move at once but I also had two arms to do it with. The more I moved even the smallest things like wiggling my fingers the easier it got. I did not feel as frail as I did before. I felt that I could have been broken if a single something touched me. Now I felt stronger. Perhaps enough to get past the downward pull and perhaps even enough to find the door. Not to make it through. It was impenetrable that was probably all it would ever be. Even the surface beneath me a more than nothing that accepted what I put into it would not let me through. There was more bents point to manipulate in order to lift my upper core. Two midpoints and the two shoulders where they connect and of course both of where my hands connect they all had to work together. My entire body base could not move on its own just like the head it had to lifted. By using my hands and arms I could push myself up. It would be so much easier if I could just get one part of me up away from the surface and lift from there. Instead of needing to lift the largest part of my body up above the rest I could bring it up to meet the part of me already there. If I could break up the weight between each of the bent points I could pull myself up and hold it there. It would be just like at the door pushing against it. With just my hands against the door I could not push very hard but once my arm gave and bent in half the force more than doubled. To be able to pull myself up instead of push would be easier. When I was facing upward I just knew that if I reached my arm away there would be nothing to grasp, nothing for me to pull up on. In order to lift myself I had to be able to get something stable up above me. As far as I knew my arms had three main points of motion one right at my base one halfway up or down my arm and near the ends where my hand connected. The ones by my hands I used every time I had to place the front of my hand flat on something it bent back and forth that was all. It was all the motion that I needed there the joint the attached my entire arm did the rest. Searching for the door while I was searching to feel it swinging my arms out and around sweeping ever possible direction I could fathom. It swung every direction except one and that was the direction where it was protruding. It also had no need to move that way. My body existed on that side and just beyond it was my other arm. That other arm reached just as far sweeping at all angles up away from my head or out away from my side. The only direction I could reach was away from me. Each of the lengthy appendages was a way to reach out to anything that was more than nothing. My only way to access what might exist amongst the nothingness. Without it the only things I could ever encounter were those that I met by chance like the door. There was nothing to look for in nothingness yet I was searching I did not know I was moving at all but the door was found whether it found me or I found it I did not know. I bumped into it and I was powerless against it. Without these arms I would have had even less power. I would have had no way to feel what it brought me how it had hurt me or how I had affected it. Being able to communicate with anything I could encounter even those by chance are what made my existence worth existing for. I was beginning to see that every part of me that had been formed had a purpose. Every point where I could bend the length of my fingers perhaps there was even purpose for the ridges lining them. The bending point half way down my arm extended my range even further. Without it reaching out and away would mean nothing if I could not pull it close. That bend could be the most important one. It was the point of me that brought the whatever it was that was not nothing back to me. Reaching out and away with it bent it changed the direction of my reach. That point only did one thing that on its own would have been insignificant but it played a big role despite its limited motion of back and forth. It was a point of change it determined the reality of my reach. One thing was all that it did and it meant the world. Even under such enormous importance where that point was did not seem to matter. Whether that bend was above my head or by my side my hand could reach myself in the same way. So long as my hand made it where it needed to go the rest of the position did not matter it faded away like part of the nothingness despite its existence. It did not seem right for it to mean the world and not feel to be a part of it. The function had to have another side to it. If I had not drifted as far as I did even by the most miniscule amount Nothing like this would ever happened I would be even more of a nothing than I was because I would not have lived anything. Where something was mattered it made the difference between within reach and out of the world. My world was a bubble defined by my reach. I was confused about many things that I had ignored waiting for a later time it was I just knew out of the range of my bubble outside of my thoughts what I was capable of understanding. All I could do was hope and not fret. Where my existence was even the point of a turn the single spot where the world could be brought to me the point where change changed to being under my control. The point could change the direction of the space that increasing grew to be more than nothing to me. It could possibly even change the direction of myself. Make my movement make it matter. Control not only what was within my reach but also control the area within my reach. Achieve the motion to since I could not expand my reach that I could change my reach. My bubble could not expand but if I could produce movement the bubble could roam. Trapped in my own thoughts my head fell to rest against the surface. When I lifted it again I could feel the outer layers of my face resist because they were stuck to the surface. It was a weak sensation but was still strong enough to notice. I knew that the only way to make anything happen again anything more was to do something and not wait for it to be by chance. For once things were in my control. I was comfortable where I was but I knew if I stayed there for too long that it too would grow stale. I already know that in order to lift myself up I would have to pull not push. Without anything above me to grasp though it seemed impossible. But with a change is direction reaching away became reach toward myself and it could make pushing away a pulling to. I had to get the bending point half way up/down of my arm out away from the surface, if I could do that I had my fluxuation point and axis around which to rotate I had to make my own something from the somethings I had. They were given to me and I had to use them. Hand joint and base joint would have to work at the same time to make it possible I could angle my half arm toward my hand upward while still keeping my hand flat to the surface. This made me stable. At the same time my base arm joint had to arch back ward and thrust the in between bend up above the rest of me. Any force I could apply or any pressure would have to move around that bend in order to reach me; any push would have to become a pull. I would have to make sure to do this right in order to peel myself away. I wanted to be pulled to my joined I wanted to make the rest of me even with it. Since I was moving away and I wanted to not be touching and I did not want to feel that pressure I could not be pushed upward. I had to be pulled to it on the other side of the bend I would have to push. I had to push my hand against the door with all my might. If it did not work I already had it in my mind that I would do nothing other than try it again. The touch of the surface and the yank of the down ward pull had not changed at all the sense of touch these things was becoming pointless the ridges down my hands pressed against the surface could have been crushed flat and I would have no way to know. Without any sort of change every something nearly felt like nothingness again. I pressed down against the surface and I could feel the pressure build on my hands. The more I pushed on it the more it pushed me back. I could feel the midpoint which was bent to its greatest extent spread out. It was opening up to extend my arms out in front of me. The pressure of the hardness beneath me was lighter than before and the harder I pushed the more insignificant it got. I could feel myself being pulled away up to where I was bent. Once I tensed that joint further I could feel the backs of my arms tighten trying to pull me up so I pushed harder to it. My whole upper body raised itself off the surface suspended over it with each arm sharing the load. As I pulled myself further and further up where I bent my arms was pushed further out. There was not anything beneath me to hold me up and I could feel the immense pressure trying to pull me back down. The entire time working on his I never thought about my lower half it always hung limp. It did not feel like my hands and the stubby growths at the bottom of each leg could not grasp. The use for that immense section of me had to have a purpose different than the ones I had discovered. By now I had raised myself up to the same height as the joint I could tell because the arm part closes to my base was sticking strait out to the side. My back was bent in a funny direction it did not feel that I was made of just a few points when it bent it was a very smooth curve as if there were many many places where it could bend but even with so many places to move each spot moved a very small amount. The entire low part of me was still flush to the surface just laying there not doing anything. I could already feel my arms running out of energy from holding myself up. Beneath the outer layers there was a dull drifting burn and with each massing moment it spread more. They were getting tired and were becoming more tense the longer I held myself there the more force I felt it take to stay there and when I had no more force to give both arms entirely began to shake. The trembles grew more violent as you got closer to the middle of my arm where it was swinging violently back and forth. My shoulders were still standing up to the task they were the only stable part involved by that point to keep me from falling. The bent points quakes put enormous strain on by my hands the joint there really was just for moving forward and back but the quakes were forcing it to move across back and forth and bending it further than they were meant to go. The entire under side was stretched tight the series of thin strings that made me move were burning from the tension. To make the strain decrease I would have to lift my slowly dropping weight. I took in a gulp of the fluid like substance around me holding it in tight it was good fuel to push all that I had to the limit. I had to ignore the shaking to just concentrate on the force of pushing down and the force of pulling up. For a short time I was actually winning the challenge I began to once again rise away from the surface. I was almost back even but on one particularly strong unexpected thrust my hand shot out in front of me beyond my way and that midpoint joint slammed open. My hands grip of the surface broke. Moments after my balance was lost the other hand went to but falling out to the side. Each arm was holding equally my weight once one was disrupted there was too much weight on one side pushing out and away I could not grip with nothing beneath me I quickly fell. I was simply in shock during the short fall I had no response to the happening I did not even remember that I needed to turn my head. The pointy bit at the bottom of my head fell into the surface my mouth was not closed as I fell but it was once I hit the impact slammed it shut smashing two rows of hard tiles together trapping my tongue in between them. There was one row protruding from the top and the other from the bottom there are many of the little tiles right next to one another. The ones toward the front were thin and sharp and the ones at the back of my mouth were square and lumpy. My tongue got pinned between the areas of thin sharp ones. My eyes instantly started leaking the instant my mouth clamped shut I lifted my tongue which released a flood of revolting liquid into my mouth. It did not taste like the liquid from my eyes it was richer in the worst sense of the word. The taste tasted like the pain. It felt as if my tongue had been severed in half unlike any other pain I experienced it did not fade away very fast. It stayed there hovering around the damage. The tip of my tongue did not taste as well as the rest and it felt disconnected. I did not want to swallow the pouring liquid after a couple gulps I was feeling sick. The cool area around me brought some relief to the pain it dulled it slightly. With my mouth hanging open the disgusting syrup did not enter my mouth even though it still coated my tongue. The longer my tongue hung out the dryer it got but it also dulled the taste. Eventually the pain lessened and the fluid leak stopped. It did not take much to figure out where I went wrong. I was so focused on how to get my body up there that I did not stop to think at all of what to do once I was there. It was so hard once I got there that I could not think while there. I did not think ahead as I should have. I knew now that each part of my body worked independently. But I also had to make them work together. Just because my arms were working to do something my lower body would not necessarily do something as well. While at the top my back was bent in an uncomfortable manner to pull up further would have made it worse. In order to stay up I would have to get something under me my arms could not make it there if they were the things already holding me up. If my legs could bend in the same way as my arms with the three joints. It could be possible for me to get my legs out and underneath me so I could sit there and plot my next move. Once I was up I would bend my legs at the base and half way down if I could. In order to figure it out I would first have to get myself up again. This time I would keep my mouth closed I did not want to sever my tongue away. It was not a very strong long or seemingly important part of my somethings make up but I also was rather attached to it. I prepared to make the lift. Sliding both hands along the surface gradually increasing their bend until all three joints were at their maximum capacity and my hands were right up against my side. I could feel that my midpoint was strait up in the air. I was able to lift myself without too much strain. Once I was up I did exactly what I plotted I pulled both legs under me and leaned my upper half forward on my hands. The transition truly was not very hard because nether leg had to leave the ground. I had a leverage around that midpoint that lifted my bottom part of my core up and over them to sit on top of them. The balance there was bearable too. But leaning on my hands with my elbows bent I felt compacted at my cores crushed in and it made it somewhat difficult to breathe. My back wanted to be strait again and away from being slouched forward. I pressed against the surface now truly pushing myself up I was able to get there with ease and it was a relief. I was stable at this point. I was comfortable and poise There was a problem though that rough slight compulsive tingle had come back again. It came back in the middle of my face on my nose through which I was breathing. Each breath activated it every time I inhaled it would spike. I needed to scratch it. Why did it not bother me while I was lying on the ground I could have reached it to soothe it easily. Now my hands were tied and there was nothing else that I could use to relieve myself of the annoyance. I wanted to be able to stay where I was and use my hands. My base was nearly centered on top of my folded legs a possibility was that if I could pull up the upper half of my body to be centered I could balance on top of it and give my hands and arms a break. My nose was twitching on its own I could not make it stop even though I wanted to. My body was taking it into its own control to end the irritation. I felt my body slant slightly as it lowered my head just a fraction of a movement to the floor. In a single burst my arms straitened up the thrust even through the movement was barely detectable was enough to get my hands off the ground. My upper body fell upward until it was perfectly balance above my lower half. My hands were free I was not even completely centered before my hand was clasping my nose rubbing against it and scraping at it with the fingertips. I felt relieved once I could scratch my nose I hardly noticed how I was sitting but when i did I was so shocked that I nearly fell back over. I could feel my back was strait and my head was being supported by it. To have my head be supported by the largest single piece of my body when I thought about it actually made sense. My mind lived in my head and I would never ever want something to happen to it. When I slammed it into the door I was in hysteria and the banging did not help. Even on purpose there were consequences to it. When I was stooped over and laying flat that was nothing to support it. With my back and body being up right my entire spine was underneath it to hold it up. It was the most comfortable position I have ever found my body to be in ever since I was not suspended in the nothingness. It was just too easy to get there I did not even have a chance to think about it. One moment I was struggling four on the floor just to stay up the next I am sitting on my legs. I wanted to remember what I had done to get there but it happened so fast it was fuzzy. I knew it had to do with bending arms, just a little bit. It was interesting to be balanced and holding myself into the position without leaning on the surface and not trying to find something to grab. I was free to use my arms as I needed but my legs were trapped beneath me and I had some inkling idea that in order to move I was going to need both of them. Again my body had shown me that even though I did not know what to do that it somehow did. It could act on its own if it wanted to and my mind could be trapped in the fleshy exterior as a power source for the puppet. The entire time until now I felt that my mind was the strongest thing possible and that nothing could conquer it. My entire life before the door my thoughts were my existence there was nothing more. I could remember being untethered to anything not pulled to a strange surface or coated in a warm paste that was smeared around me. My being was free and I wanted more than that, more than nothing. Even with the truest of freedoms existence was hollow and there were limits to what I could ever do or ever know. My being was trapped now tethered to this body and dragged down to this surface. But even being trapped in this bubble the bubble had doors and the door one by one were opening. Except one, and that one was nowhere to be found. With each door that opened my bubble would grow but I still did not like the idea of being controlled. It scared me to think that if I ever needed to, that I could not escape. The covering was attached to me, even when it first appeared no amount of clawing could remove it; the tender patch on my arm was a reminder of that.